I put laxatives in my husband’s coffee before he left to see his mistress

Thank God for that.

I returned home shortly after eleven because I had forgotten the folder containing copies of Brad’s messages.

His SUV was not in the driveway.

But another car was.

A white Mercedes.

Melissa’s.

I sat behind the wheel staring at it.

They were in my house.

Our house.

The house where Sophie had taken her first steps.

Where Brad had proposed renewing our vows three years earlier.

Where my father helped us install the kitchen cabinets.

Something inside me went completely still.

I entered through the garage.

No voices.

No laughter.

Then I noticed the front door was open.

Not wide.

Just several inches.

“Brad?”

Nothing.

I stepped into the living room.

A lamp had been knocked over.

One cushion lay on the floor.

My first thought was that Brad had gotten sick and come home.

Then I saw Melissa’s handbag on the dining table.

Beside it sat a thick manila folder.

My name was written across the top.